Pick Your Poison
by AvengingFireAngel
Summary: She blamed herself for his death. She was determined to make it right, no matter what the cost.


The world doesn't stop for anyone. It doesn't stop for one person's pain or suffering. It doesn't stop for a million people's pain and suffering. Life goes on. The days pass. The months roll by. The pain grows, but time will never stop. It must go on. Even for me, life goes on. The tears will end, but the pain won't. Time will never stop, but life will. Nobody is so significant, that their pain and suffering will in any way stop the future from coming. Will stop fate from happening. Will bring him back.

I know this as well as I know my own name. But it doesn't stop me from hoping. From hoping that one-day I will be able to look up and see him leaning in the doorway, staring at me with that captivating gaze.

I know it's silly. But my hope is all I have left. I suppose it was foolish of me to make one person so consequential to me, that it could affect me this way when he's gone. I created my own destruction. I picked my own poison. I made him my life. My world. And just as in all great tragedies, our worlds must one by one come crashing down on us. Mine came too soon I think.

Running my fingers across his picture brings on a fresh round of tears. It was my favorite picture of us. He was holding me from behind in his arms. Both of our eyes were shut, just savoring the moment. Sometimes, if I close my eyes, I can almost feel the warmth of his embrace. Almost.

Before I can help it I break down sobbing again. Rivers must have been created from tears. I know I've cried my fair share of them lately.

Why. Why did he have to die? How could God have been so cruel? To take him away from me, how could he? I've cursed God up and down since the accident. Blamed him, blamed everyone. It never helps me feel better at all as I think it will. Nothing could ever make me smile again.

This pain is all I can feel. I've forgotten what it's like to live without it. I don't even remember how to smile. My heart feels like someone's squeezing it with every ounce of their strength and wont let go. I can barely breathe. It's being torn apart from the inside. I can literally feel what's left of it being ripped like a sheet of paper. I guess that's how fragile they really are.

Why did he have to drive so fast? Why did it have to be raining? Why did that bus have to run that stop sign! Why! The sound of the picture frame hitting the wall and shattering covers up my strangled sobs.

I haven't left my room in days. I can't bear to leave his spot on the bed empty. His scent is still on the pillow. His wonderful, woodsy scent that used to lull me to a peaceful sleep at night. I wonder how long until it fades. Until he fades.

Throughout my life, I have realized one sad but true fact. Once you die, your memory does not go on. People don't remember you. Sure, if you're famous enough you'll get some honorable mention in a history book or a newspaper. But that doesn't matter. None of it matters. Family and friends remember, but soon they are able to cover up that missing link in their lives with other things. They deny it, but they too have forgotten. I suppose that is what keeps everyone sane.

Living constantly in the state I'm in would drive anyone to the brink of insanity. I've even heard my own mother on the phone with an institute, seeking advice on the normality of my actions. Or lack thereof.

It might be easier if I were willing to let go. To move on. But I can't.

As known by everyone with half a brain, you need a heart to survive. When he died, he took my heart with him.

A laugh escapes my lips. I honestly don't know whether I'm speaking literally or figuratively anymore. Maybe I am going crazy.

My heart died though. I died.

My stomach grumbles, complaining of malnourishment. But the hunger in my abdomen is but a dull pain to the one in my heart. I haven't eaten in days. I can't do anything but cry.

It was all so surreal when the police showed up instead of him, telling me about the accident. When my mom stayed to comfort me. When I helped make funeral arrangements. But it was at the funeral…when I saw his lifeless form in the casket, that was my breaking point. That was when time caught up to me.

I hit the ground next to him, sobbing. I never cried so much in my life. I finally realized that he was indeed gone. He wasn't ever coming back. He would never be there to curl up with me at night. He would never be waiting outside my office to treat me to lunch during the day. He would never be there to make cookies with me in the kitchen and have flour fights. I would never feel his arms around me again. I would never see his smiling face as he watched me. I would never get to see how his brow wrinkled when he was confused. The cute little puppy dog eyes as he pleaded with me for something he wanted. I would never even get to argue with him again. I would never get to hug him and hold him close. Never get to feel the soft caress of his lips brushing mine. Never again. He was just…gone. My life was gone.

A life is something you build upon since birth. Once it's made, it's nearly impossible to start over. I know that. I don't intend to start over. I can't live in a world without him in it. I know it was my own fault. All of it was.

I never should have met him. I never should have dated him. I never should have kissed him. I never should have loved him. I never should have said yes when he proposed. I never should have picked a wedding dress. I never should have chosen a day in spring to have a wedding. I never should have rushed him to get to the church on time that day. I never should have put my whole heart and soul into hoping for us to spend the rest of our lives together. It was my fault.

Standing up, I went into the bathroom.

_It was my fault._

I looked into the mirror and what I saw wasn't me. It wasn't the once happy and carefree bride. The blithely in love woman. She wasn't there. In fact, I don't know who I saw in the mirror.

_It was my fault._

What I saw was a pale and pathetic shell of the person she once was. A woman with tears running freely down her cheeks, and no life left in her eyes. The spark of hope that once seemed to inhibit her whole being was gone and replaced by never ending sadness.

_It was my fault._

Pick your poison.

_My fault._

I held up a bottle of sleeping pills, contemplating. My dreams were the only place I was happy now.

_My fault._

If I killed myself in the process, at least my spirit would be with him again.

_My fault._

I swallowed the pills. Every last one.

_My fault._

I just…need to see his face one more time.

_I'm so sorry._

His picture was on the floor, surrounded by the shattered glass. I picked it up and collapsed onto the bed, tracing his face one last time.

_Forgive me…_

Go ahead and say it. I'm a wimp to give up on life just because he's gone. You're wrong. You have no idea how much strength it took me to get through this pain for so long. When you can experience this pain, this agony, and live. And _want_ to live, then you may say whatever you like about me. But until that day, don't judge me. Don't even dare.

I'm just a woman, who fell in love with a man, and will be with him forever.

_I'll see you soon, my love._


End file.
